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’ ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I think as how you ought to go back to London,’ Jack ventured. “My dear girl,” he said, in a tone of patient reasonableness, “you are a mere child. He did not even care for his own inheritance at this place in Wodeham Water. "Think not to deceive me, monster. ‘Unless he is himself a man of substance. " "It is past," rejoined Lady Trafford, recovering herself by a powerful effort; "but never allude to the circumstance again. Seventeen hours, sixteen hours.
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